Saturday, January 31, 2009


Alex's poems always move me. They bring him back to life momentarily, and although they often seem sad and foreboding , the person he was couldn't have been further from that. He was a man abounding with life, absolutely passionate about his writing. Always full of fun and optimism, delighted in making people laugh , generally by poking fun at himself. He loved and lived life to the full. His writing included plays, poems, stories and work for the theatre. We were married for 41 years and have a large family. This poem was written in the 70's .


The quiet of the trees.
No wind today. Some rain
falls but does not disturb
the quiet of the trees:

the way a branch would bend
the green veins and its youth,
so much, the skin might tear,
and all the leaves and the air
surrounding it, would follow it round
but not change their course,
this is their direction.

This weird collection of shapes
does not level accusation.
the quiet of it all accepts.

In this - the ugliest child
knows its beauty's in its roots
and the dying know their place,
lay down with dignity,
retaining their attraction
even after death; that's the quiet
which makes men scream like intemperate gods.

by Alex copyright

1 comment:

  1. He must have been a wonderful man and very talented. I can't wait to read more about your large family. By the way, even though, I'm, ahem...the age where I would be more your peer than child, will you adopt me?? ha. I want to roam around the property and pretend I'm a princess.